


How to Train Your Husband

by Bohemienne



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, FaceFucking, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Married Sex, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, Rough Oral Sex, bratty bottom ferdinand, d/s dynamics, dom!hubert, dombert, facesitting, sub!ferdinand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne
Summary: Ferdinand von Aegir may be the prime minister of Adrestia, but sometimes, his husband needs to remind him who's in charge. Or so Hubert thinks.(For the FE3H Holiday Fic Exchange)
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 8
Kudos: 298
Collections: FE3H Holiday Gift Exchange





	How to Train Your Husband

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuperGayProductions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperGayProductions/gifts).



Hubert hums an aria to himself as he makes his way into his townhome in central Enbarr. Probably some tune he overheard Ferdinand singing, he thinks with a fond smile. Most days, he’d shed his heavy cloak and outer coat as soon as he returned home and summon the housekeeper to prepare supper, but this evening is an exception. This evening, he has more pressing matters to attend to than mere sustenance.

He heads through the kitchens to the cellar stairs, and makes his way down past the larder, the wine cellar, the supply room to a heavy oak door at the basement’s far end. He pulls a heavy brass key from his pocket and fits it into the door’s lock; waits for the echoing click. Then he enters, boots sharp against cold stone tile, and locks the door behind him.

The prime minister of Adrestia is bound and gagged before him in the center of the room, his gloriously freckled and tanned flesh bare and on full display. His blue belt binds his hands loosely before him, while a burgundy silk scarf silences that mouth that never seems to stop running otherwise. He sits on his heels, bent legs spread in a V, long copper hair spilling down his elegant back.

“Now there is a sight I’ll never tire of,” Hubert murmurs, stepping further into the room. Already he feels a tremor in his blood, a quivering anticipation for everything to come. But Hubert is ever patient.

One of them has to be.

Ferdinand issues the softest whimper as Hubert steps closer, and circles around to Ferdinand’s front, eyes narrowed as he scrutinizes Ferdinand’s posture, his figure. His bright eyes are wide and eager, and a pretty flush paints his cheeks and the tips of his ears. With a low chuckle, Hubert eyes the half-hard cock on full display between spread legs.

“Look at that. You can be made to behave after all, pet.” Hubert’s yearning to reach out and brush that long hair back from Ferdinand’s face, but he resists, and unfastens the buckles on his cape instead. “Are you ready to listen to me, finally?”

Ferdinand nods. But Hubert knows all too well that defiant glint in his eyes. He knows it because it’s that same look that has derailed his focus in many a crucial committee meeting, making it quite impossible to concentrate on the palace’s budget for an upcoming state dinner when he’s tormented by the sight of his husband’s pink tongue resting against his full lower lip.

“Mm. We’ll see about that.” Hubert swishes his cape over the back of a nearby chair, then unbuttons his outer jacket. He’d already exchanged his usual white cotton gloves for ones of supple black leather. There’s a sharp inhale of air from Ferdinand, too, at the moment he notices this, and Hubert doesn’t bother to conceal his satisfied smirk. He tosses the jacket aside, too, and then pushes the white sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

“Well. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Hubert asks. He drops into a crouch before Ferdinand so they’re eye level; brushes a gloved hand against his temple and rests his fingers against the knot of his makeshift gag.

Ferdinand’s gaze sweeps along the length of Hubert’s exposed forearm, from the end of his wrist-length gloves to his elbow, but he nods.

“Glad to hear it.”

Hubert eases the gag out of Ferdinand’s mouth and lets it dangle, damp, around his neck. His hand returns to the side of Ferdinand’s head, fingers working into that mass of wavy hair, and he waits.

“I am—sorry,” Ferdinand mumbles.

Hubert’s smile spreads. “Sorry for what, pet?”

Amusement dances in Ferdinand’s eyes. “I am sorry that you thought attending some dreadful meeting this afternoon was more important than attending to your husband’s needs—Ahh!”

Hubert clenches a fist in Ferdinand’s hair and _yanks_ , forceful enough to wrench his head back and expose the long line of his throat. “You really are determined to test me today, aren’t you,” he murmurs. Ferdinand’s chest rises and falls rapidly in quick little breaths, matching the dark drumbeat in Hubert’s chest. “Would you like to try that again?”

“I am sorry that I—” Ferdinand whimpers. “That I climbed into your lap while we were having lunch, distracting you from what I am sure were terribly important meeting preparations, and requested—”

“ _Demanded,_ ” Hubert corrects.

“—All right, _demanded_ that you forego the meeting and stay home with me instead.” Ferdinand grins. “Better?”

“Almost.” Hubert’s grip on his hair eases, but only partway. With his other hand, he trails a gloved thumb from Ferdinand’s muscled sternum upward, dipping into the hollow at the base of his neck, then gliding over the apple of his throat. “The meeting went well, by the way, thank you so much for asking.”

“Oh, well, isn’t that a relief.” Ferdinand swallows, thickly corded muscles rippling against Hubert’s thumb. “So now you are free to attend to my needs?”

“Who said a damned thing about _your_ needs?” He skims his thumb up and over Ferdinand’s chin, then presses the black leather squarely into the middle of his plush lower lip. Ferdinand’s mouth pops open with a sigh, and Hubert hums, pleased. “I’m going to tend to myself. Maybe, if you can prove you can behave in a manner more becoming of a prime minister, _then_ you can assist me.”

Ferdinand’s brow furrows as he looks up at Hubert. “ _If?_ ”

“You’ve the regal bearing for the role, my sweet.” Hubert tips his thumb forward, until he feels the scrape of Ferdinand’s teeth on leather and the sweep of that miraculous tongue curling around his thumb. Ferdinand’s eyes lid, and he whimpers as he draws Hubert’s thumb deeper into his mouth. “You just lack the patience sometimes.”

Ferdinand murmurs, and leans forward until Hubert cradles his other fingers around Ferdinand’s jaw. With those amber eyes closed, Ferdinand’s lashes glint gold in the candlelight as he sucks at Hubert’s thumb. Hubert stifles a low growl as the sight and dulled sensation on his thumb mines a hot, needy vein in his belly. Slowly, Ferdinand unwraps his mouth from around Hubert and sits back on his heels, looking up through the bright fringe of his lashes.

“I can be patient,” he says, smiling that smile that never fails to thaw Hubert’s heart.

“I know you can.” Hubert releases his hold on the mass of curls. “But it’s good of you to remind me sometimes.”

“Wait!” Ferdinand cries, but Hubert is already standing, turning away from him. He settles into the chair where he’s hung his jacket and leans back, long, wiry legs stretching before him. With Ferdinand’s eyes on him, Hubert eases open the pin clasping his collar shut and undoes the first button of his white dress shirt.

“Amazing how well-behaved you can be when you’re suitably restrained.” Hubert traces a gloved finger around the edges of his own collar and sighs, pleased. “I might even prefer you that way.”

Ferdinand’s mouth pops open, but at an arched brow from Hubert, he shuts it with a pout.

Hubert permits himself to smirk as his fingers glide lower, working each button open as he goes. The tight fit of the custom-tailored gloves allows him to work the delicate buttons without removing them, but the ample experience he has in doing so certainly helps. He takes his time nonetheless, savoring the feel of his husband’s eyes on him, relishing the slight hitch in Ferdinand’s breath as he reveals each inch of his sinewy, pale torso.

“Ah. Much better. I do so hate to be rushed.” Hubert widens the spread of his thighs, feet sliding forward until the toe of one boot comes to rest against Ferdinand’s knee. “One should savor these experiences, don’t you think?”

“Are you asking me this time?” Ferdinand bites his lower lip. “Or do you just wish to hear yourself talk, darling?”

Hubert narrows his eyes. “If I only wanted to hear myself talk, I’d put that gag back in your mouth. Which is sounding rather tempting.”

Ferdinand juts out his lower lip. “Or you could let me _use_ my mouth instead.”

An admittedly preferred tactic when it comes to shutting his husband up—one of the few guaranteed to work. Hubert smiles; rubs the toe of his boot along the inside of Ferdinand’s thigh until it slips just underneath his heavy balls, and Ferdinand squirms. “Is that what you would like?”

Ferdinand nods, mouth still agape.

“Mm. Well, that is good to know.” Hubert nudges upward with his boot until Ferdinand sucks in his breath, then retracts his foot. “But for now, I see no reason not pleasure myself. _I’m_ the responsible one, after all.”

“Oh, you bast—”

Ferdinand’s teeth click shut at a sharp look from Hubert, whose fingers have now landed on the fastening of his breeches. Hubert keeps his eyes on his husband as he carefully nudges the topmost button free, the hole pinching and stretching as he does so. Hubert indulges in a relieved groan as he plucks apart the lacings, then runs a flattened palm along his stomach before dipping it beneath the waistband.

He will confess, as much as he enjoys the supple brush of fine leather, it cannot begin to compare to his husband’s touch: his wet mouth, his velvet hands, the iron grip of his hole. But if his own hand is needed to pique Ferdinand’s interest and center his focus, then he will not complain as he unleashes his throbbing cock from its confines, adjusting it in his lap to ensure Ferdinand can see. He thumbs at the slit, catching on glistening drops of precum, and shudders as he wraps his fingers around his shaft.

“Hubert . . .” Ferdinand whines.

Hubert’s eyes half-close as he drags a loose fist up the length of his shaft, and then back down. “Oh, Ferdinand.” He adjusts his grip for another stroke, firmer this time. “You’ve no idea how often I used to do this, thinking of that insufferable mouth of yours.”

Ferdinand whines. “I did much the same. Even when I thought I hated you, I could not help but wonder . . .”

Hubert laughs to himself, taking his time, letting himself harden to fullness. “Now that would have been a sight.” He shivers, envisioning Ferdinand back in their days at the officers’ academy. Shorter-haired—a pity—and far more naïve, but certainly not less of a brat. “You on your knees, cursing my name, swearing how much you despised me even as you begged for my cock.” He shudders with a suppressed cry as the pleasure of his touch radiates through him. “Not so different from now, is it?”

“Hubert, please . . .”

Hubert bites down on a snarl as his core tightens at a particularly delightful image, one that warmed him through many cold nights of war. “Your tears salting my thighs as you recanted all the terrible things you said, that it was only a cover for how much you hungered for me, and if I would please, please just fuck you senseless and fill you with my cum—”

“ _Please!_ ” Ferdinand cries, and his own leaking cock twitches. “I will be so good, I swear it—”

Hubert trails his fingertips up to the head of his shaft and takes a deep, steadying breath. “You won’t, darling. But that’s just one of your many charms.”

He stands, and, his unfastened trousers sliding down his thighs, moves to stand in front of Ferdinand. Steadying his cock in one hand, he buries the other in lush copper locks as he guides Ferdinand’s head forward.

“Go ahead, love. Show me.”

With a soft sigh stirring through the dark hairs at Hubert’s base, Ferdinand nestles his cheek against Hubert’s thigh. His nose traces the line of Hubert’s shaft for a moment before he finally flicks out his pink tongue, catching against the head, and Hubert grunts as he tries not to lose his footing at the sensation. Then, with a wry glance up through his lashes at Hubert, Ferdinand rounds his mouth and begins to draw him in, inch by agonizing inch, tongue flat against the underside of Hubert’s cock as his wet lips glide along.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Hubert whispers, and brings his second hand to join the first in cradling Ferdinand’s head.

Ferdinand murmurs something, the vibrations resonating straight through Hubert’s core, and he’s not going to last long with that hot, wet mouth on him, so Hubert clenches his jaw and tightens his hold on Ferdinand’s head, looks down at him for confirmation—

And Ferdinand nods, eyes wide and intent—

“Flames, you’re amazing,” Hubert cries, and eases his cock halfway out of Ferdinand’s mouth before thrusting back in.

Ferdinand makes a pleased noise, so Hubert thrusts again, and again, fucking into his mouth fully now. Each time, Ferdinand takes him with nothing but a hungry moan and a swirl of that vexing tongue of his, and each time, Hubert’s fingers hook more intently in luscious curls.

“Such a good, sweet, obedient little slut,” Hubert growls. He slams his cock into that hot mouth. “You’ll take every drop of my cum, won’t you, darling?”

Ferdinand keens, and the sound tears through Hubert with staggering force. He shouts out a warning, only for Ferdinand to hollow out his cheeks with an even more powerful suck, and then Hubert is cumming, hips stuttering as he fucks into his husband’s mouth in quick, frantic bursts, as he goes lightheaded and the room seems to swim around him—

His knees buckle under him, and he groans, slumping forward, until suddenly, thick, muscular arms are wrapping around him and whisking him up into the air—

Hubert blinks a few times, coming out of a haze, only to find Ferdinand cradling him on the floor, doe eyes watching him with concern. “Oh,” Hubert says, trying to pull himself together. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—” Then he stops himself with a frown. “I, ah, thought I had your wrists bound with your belt.”

“Oh. You did.” Ferdinand bats his lashes, then leans down to kiss him with sweetly salty lips. “But, well, I am perhaps not always the best at following orders, and . . .”

“You don’t say.” Hubert laughs hoarsely; sits up on his elbows. “Well, I suppose I can’t be too angry, given the circumstances . . .” He pats Ferdinand’s cheek with a gloved hand, then lets it trail down the length of his powerful body; feathers his fingertips along Ferdinand’s still-hard cock. “And it would seem my work isn’t quite finished.”

Ferdinand smiles shyly, then leans over him to kiss his forehead. “I do have a few ideas what to do about that.”

“Oh?”

Ferdinand shoves him onto his back again, then climbs up to straddle his face. “Well. Do you recall asking if I was ready to behave?”

Hubert exhales, eyes closing, and lets his nose graze against the thick vein running along the underside of Ferdinand’s cock. “. . . Yes?”

“Well. It was perhaps not . . . entirely the truth,” Ferdinand says, a laugh in his tone.

And as Hubert licks down the seam of his balls, he can’t even complain.


End file.
